


The loyalty of a prince, the love of a knight

by candelina



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Geraskier, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Prince!Jaskier, human!geralt - Freeform, knight!geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27492067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candelina/pseuds/candelina
Summary: “I’ll find you again.”A soft whisper against his lips. The last breath of hope.“I promise, Jaskier.”The prince tried to fight back the tears that were threatening to fall from his eyes. He tried to smile, even though his lips were trembling. “I know you will.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 24
Kudos: 149





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You know that trope where Prince X and Knight Y are in love but they must hide because the royal family and the whole kingdom is full of bigots and stuff like that? Now think of a Geralt who never became a witcher and instead achieved his dream of becoming a knight. Add a cheerful and reckless Prince Julian Alfred Pankratz, and there you have this fic.

***

A joyful melody still played in the huge hall of the Royal Palace. Nobles from all parts of the Kingdom of Lettenhove were dancing, following the music, drinking fine wine and enjoying the food of the regal banquet. Even the king himself seemed to having a pleasant time, after he had spent the first few hours of the party discussing a few political issues with his allies and most trusted councillors. He was too inebriated, or maybe too busy deciding which lady he should ask for the next dance, to notice the absence of his own and only son.

After all, it wouldn’t be the first time Prince Julian left a party earlier than the usual. He stayed to welcome all the guests and talk to them for as long as he had to, following the etiquette like a future king should do, which pleased his father just enough. But the prince was barely nineteen and honestly, the king couldn’t understand why his son would withdraw to his room while the night was still young. He just hoped Julian didn’t go to the library to read one of those stupid books about poetry. It was all his mother’s fault for insisting on teaching him literature, music and other useless things. Her death had only made the young prince more stubborn and he wanted to learn as much as he could about stuff that he wasn’t even going to need when he’d become king.

“Your Majesty.” 

A young, beautiful lady with a red dress bowed respectfully in front of him, drawing the king’s attention.

He smirked and held out his hand to her. “Countess de Stael. May I have the honour?”

She had a determined glee in her eyes, like one of people who were following a road to achieve a priceless goal. “Of course, my king.”

As the party went on, no one would have guessed where the prince had gone. Or with whom. Then again, no one seemed to care at the moment.

“Oh, Geralt…”

He let out a weak moan as the knight bit his neck gently, while trying not to scream.

“Jaskier…” 

He panted and kissed the prince underneath him. Their lips move together in a familiar dance, like the rest of their bodies. Then, Geralt rolled off him, leaving them both sweaty and breathless. He leant back on the pillow of the large bed, inside the prince’s private chambers.

Jaskier lifted his hand and gently pushed a lock of the knight’s long black hair behind his ear. It was so soft; the prince could spend days playing with and braiding that gorgeous, dark mane. He shifted a little to get closer to him and rested his head on the knight’s broad chest.

Immediately, Geralt wrapped a strong arm around him and that was one of Jaskier’s favourite moments. Sure, the sex was great, amazing, literally breath-taking, but nothing made him feel warm and safe and at home like when Geralt embraced him while they were in bed. No layers between them, no titles or rules.

They had been lovers for almost a year. And Jaskier still remembered the first day his light blue eyes met the slightly deeper blue of the knight’s more than four years before like it was yesterday.

_Jaskier skipped breakfast that morning. He stayed in bed till late and was probably going to skip lunch as well. His whole body was numb when he finally got up. He stood on the balcony of his room, but the sun didn’t warm his skin and the usually bright colours of the view in front of him were all dull and grey to him._

_Even the birds didn’t sing that day. It felt like the right tribute to mourn the beautiful voice that left this world exactly one year before. The same voice that used to sing sweet lullabies for Jaskier when he couldn’t sleep._

_Any other day, he would have gone to the Royal Library of the palace, like he always did whenever he was upset or simply wanted to be alone. However, on this day, he avoided that place like the plague. He was too afraid that if he went there, happy memories of his mother would start washing over him and he would drown._

_So, he got out of his room and went outside, without being seen. Maybe, a walk would help him distract himself. He didn’t care that his father didn’t like when he left the palace alone. He couldn’t stay there. Not that day._

_With no aim in mind, Jaskier walked around for a while, not paying attention to anything in particular._

_Then, there was a horse’s whinny._

_He looked up from the path he was following and was met by the sight of the Royal Stables. He hadn’t even realised he had been walking in circles around the palace._

_There was only one man who was taking care of the horses. Those animals used to frighten Jaskier when he was a kid, but his father said it was unacceptable for a prince to be scared of horses, so he had made Jaskier attend daily lessons of horseback riding until he had judged him good enough to stop doing that every day._

_It’s been a while since he rode a horse. His last official lesson was a couple of years before._

_He walked closer to have a better look. The man who was brushing a horse’s chestnut mane had long black hair and broad shoulders. As Jaskier approached, he turned around and the young prince was unable to look away from the intense blue of his eyes. Jaskier had never seen the ocean, but he liked to imagine it was exactly of that same beautiful colour._

_“Did you get lost, kid?”_

_Jaskier shook those thoughts off and raised his brows when the handsome stranger spoke. “What?”_

_“You just… don’t look like you’re from here. So, I thought…”_

_“No, not that. What did you just call me?”_

_The man looked at him up and down, and a playful smirk began to appear on his features. “Kid.”_

_“How dare you!” Jaskier gasped and then pointed his index finger at himself. “I am Julian Alfred Pankratz, Prince of Lettenhove, and I’m fifteen. Not a kid.”_

_It didn’t occur to him what kind of revelation he had just made, until he saw the stranger’s eyes widen._

_“I… you are really… fuck. I mean, sorry.” He stuttered and looked at his own boots, before kneeling down on one knee and clearing his throat. “My apologies, Your Highness. I have never seen you before and I didn’t think… I didn’t know…”_

_“Oh. Hey, it’s alright.” Jaskier said gently, trying to reassure him. He hadn’t expected that reaction. “Please, stand up.”_

_Tentatively, the man lifted his head. There was still uncertainty in his gaze, but he slowly got up._

_His cheeks were slightly flushed, and Jaskier thought it made him look very cute. “So, since you know who I am now, would you like to introduce yourself as well?”_

_The man gulped but then replied respectfully. “I’m Geralt and I’m twenty-one, Your Highness.”_

_“Drop the title. I’m not here in… an official way.” Jaskier waved his hand in a random gesture and smiled at him. “You can call me Jaskier.”_

_The beautiful stranger – Geralt – seemed to ponder his offer for a moment. “Hmm. Alright, then, Jaskier.”_

_The name, spoken by that deep voice, sounded so different from the last time he had heard it from someone who wasn’t himself. It was a much sweeter voice that used to call him like a flower. He was never going to hear it again._

_“Forgive my rudeness, but… are you okay?”_

_The prince looked up to see Geralt’s concerned gaze observing him quietly. He took a deep breath, and his lips trembled a little when he spoke. “Do… do you know what day is today, Geralt?”_

_Geralt furrowed his brows slightly, as if focusing on remembering something. Then, he murmured, “Hmm. It’s the first anniversary of the queen’s death.”_

_The prince looked away and nodded. “She’s the one who gave me the nickname Jaskier. No one calls me like that anymore.”_

_“I am very sorry for your loss.” Geralt said after a pause. “I have never had the privilege to meet the queen myself, but I can tell you that I and all the people I know thought of her as a kind and wonderful person. She was and still is very beloved. She still lives in the hearts of her people.”_

_Jaskier stared at him. At that man who he had just met and didn’t even know. And yet, his words – spoken in such a warm and sincere way – made Jaskier’s heart melt. He used his sleeve to quickly wiped away the tears forming in his eyes and smiled at Geralt. “Thank you.”_

_Geralt gave him a small, shy smile and rubbed the back of his neck. “And, since you offered, I can call you Jaskier from now on.”_

_Really, could he be any more adorable? “Please do. You have my permission, stable boy.”_

_Suddenly, Geralt frowned at him. “I’m not the stable boy.”_

_“Well, why are you here, then?” Jaskier tilted his head and raised a brow._

_“I was just… I like horses. They remind me of my home.” Geralt turned to the horse he had been brushing and patted the animal affectionately._

_“Oh. I see. You know, I used to be afraid of horses when I was a child.” Jaskier lifted his hand to rest it gently on the horse’s strong neck. His finger brushed slightly against Geralt’s and he felt a strange shiver travel down his spine. Before he could stop himself, curiosity made the prince talk again, “If you don’t mind me asking… if you’re not a stable boy, then who are you?”_

_“I want to be a knight.” As he spoke, Geralt’s eyes sparkled with pride and will. “That’s why I’m here. I’m training and waiting for the right chance to prove myself.”_

_Everything about him made Jaskier think he was already an honourable man. The young prince had the sudden urge to see Geralt riding a horse while wearing a shining armour. He couldn’t wait for it to happen. “So, I’ll have to call you Sir Geralt one day.”_

_The future knight snorted. “No. You can keep calling me Geralt.”_

_As their eyes met again, they shared a knowing smile that was just the first of many to come._

“Jaskier.”

The prince blinked, realising that he had closed his eyes, and lazily looked up. “Hm… what?”

Geralt’s lips curled into a fond smile. “You were drifting off.”

“You could have let me.” Jaskier mumbled against his chest.

“Hmm. Yes. But then you would’ve been upset to find me gone without saying goodnight.”

“You know me very well, my beloved knight.” He lifted his head and pressed a gentle kiss on the knight’s lips, before whispering, “Please, don’t go.”

Geralt sighed softly. “Jaskier. We’ve already talked about this.”

“Just for tonight.” Jaskier batted his eyelashes and pursed his lips, giving him his most perfect pleading look. “Sleep here with me.”

But Geralt shook his head firmly and began to untangle himself from the prince’s hold. “I can’t. I have to leave while it’s still dark. If I wait until morning, I could be seen.”

Jaskier made a weak attempt to grab his arm, but it was useless. So, he whined, “But the bed is so cold and empty without you.”

“Tell one of the maids to bring you more blankets.” Geralt got up from the bed and bent to pick his smalls and trousers from the floor. 

“You’re cruel.” Jaskier pouted but felt no shame in that moment as he let his gaze linger on the knight’s lovely bottom, until it was covered by the fabric of the trousers. What a crime.

Then, Geralt started to search for the rest of his clothes – on the floor, under the bed, in some corner of the room. But soon, he let out a frustrated grunt. When he realised that some of his things seemed to have strangely disappeared, he turned to the prince with an accusing glare. “Where the fuck is my shirt, Jaskier?”

Jaskier gasped and placed a hand on his still bare chest. “How dare you use such a vulgar language with your future king. You should be punished for your insolence.”

Suddenly, Geralt’s scowl turned into a grin. He moved back towards the bed in the darkness of the room, like a wolf approaching his prey. “What if it’s the other way round?”

Jaskier felt hot under that predatory gaze. He almost yelped when his lover grabbed his wrists and pushed him back on the bed. Then, he started licking and kissing his neck shamelessly, making Jaskier laugh softly.

“Geralt,” he tried to say while he chuckled, but the knight bit a spot where he knew the prince was ticklish, “wait, no, stop it… come on, you silly man…”

“Hmm.” Geralt purred against him.

They were too busy enjoying those little moments of pure happiness and neither of them heard the footsteps outside the bedchamber until it was too late.

The door burst open and the king himself barged in, followed by several guards.

Geralt jumped away from Jaskier, but it was useless. They had seen enough.

With an unreadable expression on his face, the king eyed them both before turning his hard gaze to the knight. “Get him. Now.”

The guards moved quickly and seized Geralt’s arms behind his back. He didn’t fight them. It wouldn’t have helped.

“Geralt–” Jaskier heard himself choke as he witnessed the scene before his eyes. He grasped the blankets which still covered the lower part of his body, but they felt like a heavy weight, impossible to move. His stomach dropped. “No, no, no. Please. Father, wait.”

“Take him to the dungeon.”

The king’s men nodded and began to drag the knight off, towards the door.

Jaskier couldn’t believe what was happening. It had to be a nightmare.

“Please, don’t–”

“Silence.” His father’s voice boomed and made Jaskier flinch.

He looked desperately at his lover again. Despite the guards’ grip, the knight had managed to turn his head towards Jaskier and was giving him an apologetic smile. Sadness seeped through his deep blue gaze, but his face was very calm.

It was the last thing Jaskier saw before everything became blurred, as his eyes filled with tears.

“Geralt!”

He screamed, but apparently no one heard him. He was barely aware of the king marching towards him, and suddenly all he felt was a sharp pain across his cheek which made his body slam back on the bed.

“What did you think you were doing, you ungrateful brat?”

Even if he had wanted, Jaskier couldn’t have stopped the tears and the sobs that escaped him.

“Crying will take you nowhere. Stop being so weak.” His father snapped at him like he hadn’t done in years. “You are a prince, Julian, and you’re going to be king one day.”

But Jaskier had never felt so powerless in his life. His lungs couldn’t even make him breathe properly.

“This is your destiny. You can’t change it.”

***

It was his fault. It was all his fault. He always wanted too much. Always took too many risks. Always asked for more and more time to spend together.

In the end, someone was bound to get suspicious.

He had thought of a plan. Maybe it was naïve, but it was still a plan. He just needed to wait until he was old enough to take his father’s place and then he’d try to make things easier, he’d try to change the law. But he had been too reckless. He had ruined everything. 

And the worst thing was that Geralt was going to pay for it.

Jaskier couldn’t let it happen. He would never let it happen.

If his father thought that locking him in his room was going to stop him, then he didn’t know Jaskier at all.

Getting out of there through the window was the easiest part. It’s not like he hadn’t done it before. He wore a black cloak to cover himself in the dark night and used the servants’ passages to find his way around the palace without being seen. Reaching the underground prison cells wasn’t a problem either.

The hardest part came when he had to steal the keys. There were three men keeping guard. Two of them stayed at the entrance of the dungeon, while the third patrolled the cells to keep an eye on the prisoners.

Jaskier pressed himself against the rock wall where he could see them, but they couldn’t see him. He had to be as quiet as a shadow. But the bag he was carrying could make things a bit more complicated.

He had to try anyway.

Jaskier brought his right index and thumb in his mouth and whistled.

The hooves of Geralt’s favourite horse hit the ground, drawing the guards’ attention. The two men rushed outside to see what was going on, while the third guard took their place at the entrance. That was going to be the riskiest part.

Taking a deep breath, as he tried to calm himself and stay focused, Jaskier took a small vial from his bag and hid it behind his back. He put on an innocent smile as well as he could and approached quietly.

The man in front of the doors of the dungeon turned to him immediately and his eyes widened when he recognised him.

“Your– Your Highness,” he stuttered, “I– I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t…”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll leave soon.”

Once he was close enough, without hesitation, Jaskier whipped out the vial and opened it quickly under the guard’s nose.

“What–”

Before he could understand what was happening, the soporific smell filled his nostrils and his eyes rolled back as he fainted.

Jaskier caught his body before it hit the ground and let out a huff. He hadn’t calculated how much the man could weigh, especially with the armour on. Maybe Geralt had been right when he told Jaskier a few training sessions wouldn’t hurt much – _real_ training sessions, not just the excuse to stay together and touch each other without raising suspicion. But now it wasn’t the time to think about that.

Now it was his chance.

After managing to drag the guard’s body behind a wall, Jaskier went inside the dungeon and closed the doors behind him. He made his way down the stairs to reach the prison cells through the darkness. The long corridors were barely lit by a few torches. It hard to see where he put his feet, and the silence was almost surreal.

Geralt wasn’t in the first three cells and the next two were empty.

As he approached the last cell, Jaskier’s heart was pounding against his ribcage and fear raised in the back of his mind that his lover might not be there at all. Maybe he had been brought somewhere else.

“Geralt?” He whispered with his heart in his throat. 

For a moment, the darkness of the room was forgotten, as his last glimmer of hope lit everything around him, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“Jaskier?” The knight’s deep blue eyes shone when he looked up from where he sat on the wooden bench on the other side of the bars. It almost looked like he was seeing a dream. When he got up his legs shook a little. “What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?” Jaskier grinned at him until he noticed the knight hadn’t been given any more clothes besides the trousers he had worn before they dragged him off. He was still shirtless and barefoot in this cold place. Jaskier had imagined this would happen, but his blood still boiled with rage at that sight. He reached for the bag he had brought and handed the knight a clean shirt, socks, and his boots.

With a dumbfounded expression on his face, Geralt accepted the items and began to wear them without much hurry.

The prince quickly took the keys to open the prison cell.

But then, a large hand came to rest on the top of his own. Jaskier glanced up and frowned.

“Stop.” Geralt shook his head slightly. “It’s too dangerous. If someone finds out…”

“What? They’ll sentence the crown prince to death? Don’t be ridiculous.” Jaskier was determined to dismiss whatever thought might suggest giving up on what he knew was the right thing to do. He wouldn’t let anyone change his mind. Not even Geralt.

The door of the cell finally clicked and opened.

The knight sighed, but he also smiled at the prince while he got out of that dark, cold cell. Then, he wrapped an arm around his lover’s waist and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “You’re a fool.”

Jaskier kissed him back and returned the smile. “Maybe. But I’m _your_ fool. Now, let’s hurry up.”

They had to cross the long corridor, passing by every other prison cell. The prisoners, who had been asleep before, began to wake up and murmured to each other, trying to understand what was happening. Some of them – intentionally or not – made more noise than necessary.

The prince and the knight had almost reached the top of the stairs when footsteps rushed just outside of there. 

Jaskier froze. “Shit. They’re already here.”

Geralt stopped behind him. “What do we do now?”

The prince turned around and grabbed Geralt’s hand, pulling him in the opposite direction. “There’s another passage.”

Behind an old rock wall, he moved a few wooden boards out of the way to get into a slightly narrower corridor. And they ran.

But the footsteps followed.

They came to a fork in the tunnels below the palace. One road led outside through an iron grating, the other went on farther. Jaskier’s gaze shifted from one way to the other as if it could help him think of something. But there was no time left. The guards were getting closer and they couldn’t run or hide forever. He turned to look at the man he’s been in love with for more than four years with pleading eyes.

“Geralt, go ahead.”

The knight blinked at him. “What?”

Jaskier grabbed one of the torches from the wall and spoke with more determination as the closeness to the fire warmed his skin up. “I’ll distract them to give you enough time to go.”

Geralt’s shoulders tensed and he visibly clenched his perfect jaw. “I’m not leaving without you.”

The prince placed his free hand on the knight’s biceps. “Geralt, listen to me. If I know my father well, and I think I do, he’ll keep you in prison or sentence you to hard labour for the rest of your life. And that’s the best scenario.” There was pain in his chest as he talked, as if an invisible knife were ripping his heart apart, but Jaskier kept holding his love’s deep gaze and squeezed his strong arm. “I’m his only son. He won’t hurt me, and neither will the guards.”

Geralt shook his head. Like he didn’t understand. Like he didn’t want to understand. “Jaskier…”

“You have to leave without me. You have to be free.” Jaskier couldn’t let his lover speak. Not before he made it clear that was their only choice. “Roach is already waiting for you, Geralt.”

The knight opened his mouth, but then closed it again and gritted his teeth, as if he were feeling the same pain as Jaskier. 

Geralt was a man of action. He always preferred to show rather than tell. So, he looked directly into Jaskier’s eyes and took his face in his hands to pull him in a desperate kiss. 

“I’ll find you again.” 

A soft whisper against his lips. The last breath of hope. 

“I promise, Jaskier.”

The prince tried to fight back the tears that were threatening to fall from his eyes. He tried to smile, even though his lips were trembling. “I know you will.”

Jaskier’s gaze didn’t leave the knight’s face, but he forced himself to push him away lightly, before it was too late.

One last touch. One last look. One last tear.

Then, Geralt turned around and ran towards the only way out.

Jaskier watched his back disappear into the darkness and braced himself for the ache that followed, sharper, like a stab wound in his chest.

But there was no time for him to process it, when the guards’ footsteps grew louder and louder behind him.

He gripped the torch tightly and waited until those men were close enough to catch a glimpse of his figure. Then, he rushed in the other tunnel.

***

The first rays of sunshine were seeping through the large window when he walked in his father’s study.

The king didn’t lift his head from what he was reading on the desk. “You’re up early, Julian. How strange.”

Jaskier closed the door behind him and didn’t reply. He waited for his father to go on, which he did.

“I’ve heard there was an incident last night. Apparently, one of the horses escaped from the Stables.” 

When he finally looked up, Jaskier felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

“What do you think I should do about it?”

He tried to look as nonchalant as possible and shrugged. “It’s just a horse.”

The king leant back on the chair where he was sitting and observed his son with a stern expression. “If I remember correctly, you used to be scared of horses. Now, you seem to like them very much.”

“They can be useful. You taught me that.” Jaskier stiffened and felt his throat completely dry as he gulped. “I think you should forget about the horse that escaped last night.”

His father brought a hand decorated with golden rings to his beard and rubbed it carefully. “Why would I do that?”

“Well, because you don’t want any of the nobles, or worse one of the kings from the other kingdoms to find out that the guards of our palace can’t even prevent a horse from fleeing. And because… if you leave the choice to me I’ll take full responsibility for it.”

He knew what he was doing, and even though it hurt, he knew it was the only thing he could do if he wanted Geralt to be left alone. The noble knight – not by blood, but by heart – deserved to live his life free and safe. Which meant that Jaskier needed to stay as far as possible from him.

“If you forget about the horse, I won’t… distract myself anymore. I’ll be the man you have always wanted me to be.”

His eyes stung with unshed tears, but he refused to cry in front of his father again. He wasn’t a child anymore and he was going to show it. 

“I might believe you. But I need proof that your intentions won’t change.”

“I’ll do anything.”

His father’s gaze was still fixed on him and for a few moments he said nothing. Then, the king stood and walked past his desk, approaching. He put his own hands behind his back and circled his son at a slow pace. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. Something of great importance for our kingdom.” He stopped beside him, placing a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder, and almost made him flinch. “But don’t worry, it’s nothing unpleasant. Quite the contrary, in fact.”

With his heart in his throat, Jaskier tried to swallow again, but the collar of his shirt was suddenly too tight around his neck.

“Tell me, Julian. Do you know the Countess de Stael?”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I make myself cry with this? Yes, I did.  
> Do I regret it? Absolutely not.
> 
> Just a quick survey:  
> Comment here what you think is going to happen in the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am finally!
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this second and last part ;)

***

The sound of waves reached his ears like music and he could already hear a melody for a new song playing in his head.

As the sea breeze caressed his face and his short chestnut beard – which was turning slightly grey, like his hair – Jaskier admired the astonishingly beautiful sight before his eyes.

_I’ll find you again_.

It’s been thirty-five years since Jaskier had heard his voice. 

Thirty-five years since he had felt his gentle touch on his bare skin.

Thirty-five years since he had tasted his slightly chapped lips.

Thirty-five years since he had looked into those deep eyes for the last time.

And yet, Jaskier never stopped counting. Never stopped hoping.

He had imagined this moment for decades and was satisfied to say that every single day had been worth it. However, not everything was as perfect as he would have wanted. Life had taught him a long time before that people can’t have all they want. Not even a king.

But he wasn’t going to let it spoil his joy as he walked on the soft, warm sand. His bare feet sank in it gently each step he took. The sun shone with an orange light at the horizon, just above the sea. It was going to set very late, especially at this time of the year.

Jaskier would have loved to bring his daughter to that dreamlike beach. He hoped she’d have the chance to travel safely and see as many places as she wanted, since she had already graduated with honours at Oxenfurt, like he did lots of years before. He couldn’t be prouder of her.

He would have loved to bring his son, the firstborn, as well. But he had already taken his place on the throne and had devoted his life to their Country since a long time. He was going to be a great king. Better than Jaskier himself was, that’s for sure.

He would have loved to bring his wife, if she had been still alive. In their youth, he had only known her as the Countess de Stael. The gracefully determined and fatally beautiful countess. She was a lovely partner, a wonderful mother, and a powerful queen. He was going to miss her greatly.

But, most of all, he would have loved to be there with that one person who had never left his heart, no matter how many springs passed. Not one single day went by without him wondering where that person could be, what he could be doing, whether he’d ever manage to see his handsome face, his gorgeous, long, black hair, and to feel safe in his strong arms again.

It was their secret dream. To go to the coast and see the ocean together. Geralt had promised him that one day he would have brought Jaskier there. But, after everything that had happened, Jaskier didn’t want to wait anymore. Once he was free from his duties and could finally travel like he had always wanted to do, it was easy to choose where to go first.

The water was cold where it met his feet on the shore. He breathed the briny air with closed eyes, and the sea filled his lungs. The peaceful quiet was broken only by the cries of the seagulls, at least until Jaskier was startled by a rustling noise behind him.

Not too far from where he stood, with his feet gently washed by the seawater, a dark figure was approaching along with a horse by his side. It was probably male, judging by his armour and broad shoulders, even though Jaskier’s eyesight was a bit weakened by the passage of the years. 

It might have been an instinct, a weird gut feeling, an invisible external force, something that Jaskier couldn’t quite explain, but whatever it was, it drew him away from the water and made him take step after step towards the stranger.

The man – now Jaskier could see him more clearly, even at a safe distance – looked at him with eyes that shone like amber stones. Maybe it was just the peculiar light of the sun that reflected on the man’s scarred face, but his strangely bright gaze seemed to penetrate him.

“Buttercup?” The gruff, unfamiliar, slightly dubious voice asked.

Jaskier raised his brows at the man but tried to give him a polite smile as he replied. “Excuse me, sir, it’s my first time coming to this place. Is there any social convention that makes it normal to greet people with the random name of a flower?”

The armoured man – probably a hunter, judging also by the sword that he carried on his back – crossed his huge arms. “Are _you_ Buttercup?”

Oh. So, the name wasn’t random. But that didn’t make sense. There must have been something wrong with his hearing, because Jaskier couldn’t believe what that stranger had just asked him. “You mean… Jaskier?”

“Whatever.” The man rolled his eyes and shrugged, apparently unaware of the internal turmoil he had caused in the person in front of him.

“Well, yes.” Jaskier began, as he kept holding that bright gaze carefully. “But only a very few people call me like that, so…” _how the fuck do you know it_ , he left unsaid.

However, the stranger didn’t seem keen on answering the implicit question, as he let out a grunt. Then, he cocked his head – still looking at Jaskier – before turning around with his horse.

They started walking slowly on the beach, while Jaskier stood there with a dizzy feeling in his head, as if he had just woken up from a weird dream and had got out of bed a bit too fast. When his unfocused gaze looked up from the sand, the man and the horse were still there, and they appeared to be slowing down even more before coming to a stop.

 _Waiting_. Jaskier realised. Were they waiting for him? Why? Could Jaskier trust him? A man who looked like an experienced hunter and knew his nickname even though Jaskier had never seen him before. And yet, his feet began to move of their own accord in that direction. His body chose before his mind could think.

 _Follow_. A much more familiar voice – probably not more reliable, though – raised in back of his head. It was his own. The poet inside him always wanted to listen to it, no matter how reckless the situation might seem. Wisdom had come with experience and responsibility. Destiny had led him to be king. But, at heart, Jaskier was and would always be just an artist.

He quickly reached the stranger on the top of a dune of sand. He huffed a little, not used to that kind of effort. Not anymore, at least, considering his age, which Jaskier often forgot to think of.

“Take your time.” The hunter said, in what was clearly meant to be a sarcastic tone.

“I was just enjoying this magical sunset.” Jaskier grinned as he gestured towards the sea, stretching his arm.

The man snorted and shook his head before starting to walk again.

There was no more hesitation in Jaskier’s step, while excitement filled his heart like a young boy going on a new adventure.

The light breeze turned into a stronger wind as they arrived at a cliff facing the ocean, where the waves crashed against the rocks violently.

Among those, a dark figure sat, unperturbed by the raging sea.

The man beside Jaskier let go of his horse’s reins and the animal trotted over where another horse was calmly chewing on some herbs or flowers, not far from the rocks.

As they got closer, it became easier to notice the other man’s long white hair, like a silver mane, ruffled by the cool wind.

The hunter approached, but the other stranger didn’t move.

“Oi, Geralt. I found your flower.”

Jaskier froze in his tracks.

_Geralt_

_Geralt_

_Geralt_

The white-haired man slowly turned his head, and two gold spheres with just a line of darkness inside them met blue.

“Hmm.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened. All he could do was gaping, while the man got up. He was wearing black trousers and a black shirt, with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, which contrasted with his hair and the silver beard that covered the lower part of his face and strong jaw. But what really stood out was that piercing amber gaze, like one of a predator ready to hunt at any time of the day or night.

The man – another hunter, Jaskier assumed, even though he didn’t have a sword or an armour with him at the moment – took a cautious step towards him.

“Jaskier.”

A word, a name. The sound of a deep voice which had been made tired and graver after decades. It was all it took for Jaskier to launch himself at him and wrap his arms around his neck to make sure that image, that dream, that miracle wasn’t just an illusion. He shut his eyes and squeezed to make sure it wouldn’t escape.

“You’re alive.”

Strong, safe, protective arms embraced him around the waist. Real. Real was the body pressed against his own. Real was the warm breath against his skin. Real was the nose hiding in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent.

“And you still use that lavender soap.”

As Jaskier started to open his eyes, tears of pure joy began to fall on his cheeks, and he didn’t even try to stop them. A weird sound, the mix of a chuckle and a sob, escaped his mouth. “I know you like it, so I’ve never changed it.”

The man’s arms held him little tighter and closer, as chapped lips ghosted over his skin.

“Geralt.” The name tasted fresh on his tongue, like the first day. For many years, Jaskier had spoken it only in his most secret dreams. “My beloved knight.”

Geralt shook his head slightly. “Not a knight.”

“You still are for me.”

“Hmm.” 

They pulled away at the same time, but kept a firm grip around each other’s body, as if still afraid that they could disappear any moment.

“My prince.” Geralt whispered in a low voice, like when they used to meet in the hidden places of the Royal Palace and had to be careful to avoid being heard. “Or should I say ‘my king’?”

Jaskier looked at that handsome face which was so different from the young memories stuck in his mind and yet so familiar. “Neither. I’m just Jaskier now.”

Geralt brought his hand to Jaskier’s cheek and used his thumb to caress his short beard gently. “My flower, then.”

Jaskier smiled, as his chest bloomed with happiness. “Yes. Your flower. An old one, though.”

Geralt leant closer slowly, until their noses touched lightly. “Still beautiful.”

In an instant, all those years apart meant nothing. As Jaskier’s hands found their way through Geralt’s hair, their lips met with the same intoxicating passion of the first time. It didn’t matter if the colour of their hair – or eyes – had changed. It didn’t matter if crow’s feet and wrinkles had begun to appear on their faces. It didn’t matter if their beards rubbed and tickled each other’s skin a little while they kissed. The past was already behind. And for a few blessed moments, time and the world around them were forgotten.

Not even Lambert dared to break the magic.

***

The sand was still warm where they sat, even as the sun descended below the horizon. The wind had calmed down a bit after they set up camp on the beach, with the gentle melody of the waves kissing the shore as a pleasant background to their dinner.

“When did you catch all these fish?”

“Earlier. While you two old men were making out like horny teenagers.” Lambert said, with a grimace, and took another bite of his fish.

After being introduced, he and Jaskier soon bonded over mutual jokes and memories of their acquaintance in common.

“I reckon you’re not much younger than either of us, Lambert.” The retired king had placed his hand on Geralt’s thigh and didn’t move it, not even an inch.

The former knight smirked, as he added, “And you act worse than a horny teenager with that guy – what’s his name, again? Aide–”

“Fuck off, Geralt.”

Jaskier chuckled as a growing shade of red appeared across the slightly younger hunter’s face. Then, he leant towards Geralt to whisper in his ear, “You’ll have to tell me about this.”

“Hmm.”

There were many things to tell, actually. Many things to talk about, but for the time being, all they wanted was enjoying that blissful summer evening, like eager teenagers with a long life ahead of them.

Lambert finished the food and threw the fishbones away. Then, he gathered his things and stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“Wherever I won’t be able to hear you. I want to sleep tonight.” Lambert grumbled. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll look for Eskel. He said he’d come here this summer, too.”

“Eskel?” Jaskier turned to Geralt and raised a questioning brow.

“I met him and Lambert after I left the kingdom. We were all fugitives and trained together to become professional hunters.” Geralt explained. “Vesemir, an old hunter, was our mentor. He taught us everything he knew.”

“I’m sure Eskel will look forward to meet you, Buttercup. Especially after Geralt talked our ears off about you for decades.”

Jaskier smiled, pleased by the new piece of information. “Is that true?”

Geralt grunted in response.

With one last look in their direction, Lambert turned away and walked off, followed by his horse.

A few moments passed, as Geralt and Jaskier finished their fish in silence. Then, they met each other’s eyes again.

“So,” Jaskier began.

“So,” Geralt echoed him. There was still a hint of incredulity in his amber gaze, as if he couldn’t believe yet that this wasn’t just a dream. “You retired.”

“Yes. I did.”

“When I heard it, I thought it was just a rumour. But I hoped.”

“And you came here.”

“I come here every summer.” Geralt admitted.

Jaskier bit his lower lip as he thought of Geralt when he was still a young knight, alone on that beach and waiting. Waiting and waiting every year, for thirty-five summers. While Jaskier did the same thing, in his old home. 

His fingers grasped the fabric of his sleeve and he started fidgeting with it. An old tic. “But you never came back to the kingdom.”

“I didn’t think I’d be welcome.”

“I would’ve welcomed you.”

Geralt paused, as if pondering over something. “You got married.”

It wasn’t an accusation. His tone was calm but the pain in his gaze was difficult to hide. A stab of guilt shot through Jaskier’s heart and he looked away. “I had to.”

“Was it… a happy marriage?”

Geralt sounded genuinely concerned and Jaskier was reminded once again that there were many things they didn’t know about each other. He didn’t want to lie to him. He didn’t want any more secrets, of any kind. “It was better than expected. She was wonderful. Strong, smart and… understanding. I tried to be understanding, too. We gave each other space when we needed it. But we also tried to work together for the sake of the kingdom, of our people, of our family.”

Geralt nodded, apparently satisfied with that reply. 

Jaskier took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly and inhaling the ocean air. Then, he stood up and held out his hand.

Geralt glanced at it before looking up. He gave him a small but fond smile as he took Jaskier’s hand in his and then got on his feet as well.

They cast a look over Roach, who was chilling not far from their camp.

They didn’t need to speak, as they started walking hand in hand along the shore. The sea twinkled where the moon and the first stars of the night reflected their light on the water.

“How romantic.” Jaskier sighed softly, dreamily.

“Hmm.” Geralt squeezed his hand gently.

That’s when Jaskier began to hum a tune, one that he didn’t even know yet. It came directly from his heart, trying to sing alongside the waves and to join the voice of the ocean. And Jaskier let it guide him, as he let his mind flow. He thought of the first time they met. The first time they went horse riding together. The first time Geralt tried to teach him to fight with a sword. The first time they ended up alone in the Royal Stables during a thunderstorm and they were soaked and embraced to warm their bodies up and then looked at each other and their lips were so close and suddenly they were touching – kissing – and it was the most beautiful thing Jaskier had ever experienced in eighteen years of living.

How things could have gone if no one had ever found out about them, Jaskier didn’t want to know. He was fifty-four now and his life had given him many pains and joys.

When he stopped humming, Geralt turned his head to look at him.

Jaskier was silent and pensive for a few moments, but he kept walking and Geralt waited for him to speak. 

“Maybe one day you could meet them.” He said, eventually. “My son and my daughter, I mean.”

Geralt blinked at him but then averted his gaze. “I’m not sure if it’s a good idea.”

“I think they’d love you.” Jaskier went on, already imagining it. “You could practice swordsmanship with my son. I’ve never been able to teach him much, but he could learn a lot from you. And you could also tell stories of your adventures to my daughter. She’d be very eager to listen.”

“Hmm.” 

It was a doubtful but not negative grunt. Jaskier took it as a victory. He had never told his children about Geralt, but they knew that he and their mother hadn’t got married because they truly wanted to. Jaskier couldn’t know how they would react, but it was nice to think that one day he might be able to be completely honest with them and show them what true love meant for him. One day, maybe, the four of them could eat together at the same table and, maybe, one day Jaskier and Geralt could be grandfathers to Jaskier’s grandchildren. But that was going too fast, and he had talked about himself enough.

“What about you?” He asked, turning to Geralt again.

“What?”

“I mean, have you… been with someone?”

“I bedded some women in brothels when… when I felt too lonely.” Geralt answered, before hesitating briefly. “And then I met a sorceress.”

Jaskier raised his brows at him. “A sorceress?”

He received an affirmative grunt in reply.

“Her name is Yennefer. We were… something. Lovers. For a while.”

Jaskier nodded, ignoring the irrational way his stomach churned at the thought of Geralt with someone else. Geralt had lived his life just as Jaskier had, so there was no reason to feel like that. But being the curious person that he was, he needed to ask more. “Was it a… satisfying relationship?”

Geralt took a moment to think. A small smile tugged his lips before disappearing, and then he shrugged. “We argued. Sometimes.”

“The kind of arguments that leads to rough, passionate, frustration-relieving sex afterwards?”

“No.” He frowned slightly, as he looked at Jaskier. “Were your arguments like that?”

“Not really. They usually ended with me sleeping on an armchair in the Royal Library.”

Geralt snorted. “At least your wife couldn’t open portals and send you wherever she wanted for revenge.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to reply but realised that he didn’t have anything to say to that. “Alright, you win.”

A chuckle escaped from Geralt. A genuine and pleasant sound, which made Jaskier’s chest feel warmer. But then, another thought crossed his mind as he stared at his knight’s amber eyes, brighter than ever in the darkness, like stars that had fallen from the sky and had found their way on a man’s features.

“Was this sorceress the reason of your…?” He began before he could stop himself.

Geralt furrowed his brows, but when he understood what Jaskier meant, he immediately looked away.

Jaskier’s heart clenched painfully, and he mentally cursed himself. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“No. It’s fine.” Geralt cut him off, still avoiding his gaze. He paused for a moment. Then, he took a deep breath, before explaining, “I wanted something that could help me hunt better in the dark. She gave me a potion which granted me a night vision. But she forgot to mention that the side effects would be permanent.”

“Rude.” Jaskier grimaced, already taking a mental note to have a word with the sorceress if he ever came across her. A low grunt made him turn to Geralt, who stubbornly didn’t meet his eyes. Jaskier let go of his hand and stepped in front of him. 

However, Geralt’s gaze was fixed on the sand at their feet.

“Geralt.” Jaskier began gently. “Can you look at me?”

Geralt’s first reaction was closing his eyes. But then, tentatively, he lifted his head and opened them again shyly.

Jaskier brought both his hands to Geralt’s face and took it between his palms. He smiled, as he looked into those unique amber eyes while caressing his soft white beard. “You are very beautiful. Always have been.”

A light blush raised on Geralt’s cheeks and he swallowed visibly. His hands went to Jaskier’s hips, drawing him closer. Body calling the other’s body.

“You may have changed. We both have. And I still remember the deep blue of your eyes, because it’s stuck in my most precious memories.” Jaskier went on, keeping his voice sweet and honest, letting his heart speak like he used to do. “But now I want to make new memories with you. If you’ll let me.”

Their foreheads were touching now, and they were close enough to breath each other’s air.

“Yes.” Geralt whispered, before capturing Jaskier’s lips with his own and pressing them even closer.

Jaskier moaned softly and gripped the collar of Geralt’s shirt tightly. They clung to each other like their lives depended on it. Maybe they sort of did, at that point.

The kiss deepened without rush. Their tongues began to explore each other’s mouth like it was the first time, with care and attention, but without the fear of being found out. They stood there in the open, embracing in front of the ocean, kissing in the moonlight for the world to see.

Time was an easy thing to forget about in those intimate moments. When they finally pulled away, it was even darker than before and a bit cooler. But they didn’t feel cold as they held hands again and walked back to the camp.

Once there, Geralt spread his bedroll on the sand and Jaskier grinned at him as he was invited to lie down. The space wasn’t much, but even if they had the largest bed, they would still press their bodies as close as possible.

Jaskier rested his head on Geralt’s chest and Geralt wrapped an arm around Jaskier’s waist, just like they used to do.

With an infinite canopy of stars above them and the gentle voice of the ocean in their ears, they quietly listened to their heartbeats and felt warm under each other’s touch.

Jaskier began to draw imaginary circles with his finger on the black fabric underneath his hand. “Thirty-five years. I counted every day.”

As he lightly rubbed a spot near Jaskier’s hipbone, Geralt pressed his lips on his chestnut hair and murmured, “I told you I’d find you again.”

“Actually,” Jaskier raised his index finger, like when he wanted to point something out, “the first time, it was _me_ who found _you_.”

“Hmm. So, we’re even now.” Geralt conceded.

“Well, technically, this time there was Lambert who…”

“Jaskier.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll shut up now.”

“No. I didn’t say that.” Geralt shifted a little to be able to lift his head and look at the love of his life properly. “Would you like to sing something?”

Jaskier smiled and pushed himself up on his elbow. He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Geralt’s mouth, already thinking of a lullaby he had learnt from his mother.

“For you, my love? Always.”

And he started singing.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let them retire and go to the coast.   
> Let them be old and happy together. 
> 
> (Is this what I wish would happen in canon even though I know it’s impossible? Yes. Yes. Also, yes.)


End file.
